


Hiccup Læknishǫnd

by leradny



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Genderswap, Hiccup is a girl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/pseuds/leradny
Summary: Hiccup is a tall girl. It'd be one thing if she was the regal, statuesque kind of tall. But she's skinny and clumsy and awkward. More of a timid crafter and healer than the dragon-slaying shieldmaiden her father wanted her to be, she languishes under Stoick's quiet disappointment. Then Astrid fights a Night Fury, Hiccup finds the injured dragon in the woods. One thing leads to another and suddenly Hiccup is riding on the back of the unholy offspring of lightning and death instead of trying to kill it. [Fem!Hiccup AU]





	Hiccup Læknishǫnd

The fire runs low and red. The men have gone from the meeting to nurse their wounds or their drunken heads. Gobber, as always, has more weapons to fix than he has hands. He could sorely use a proper apprentice instead of picking up whatever boy had spare time. But if wishes were ships, Berk could sail to other lands while their burnt and broken ones were fixed.

The only one left in the mead hall is Hoffer, Astrid's father. Once Hiccup takes their cups away to refill them, Stoick heaves a sigh. His chair rattles a bit as he settles all his weight in. "Isn't it odd, Hof?"

"Well, your chair could stand to have a leg mended, but I don't think that's odd."

He glares at the blond man out of habit. Physical intimidation does little to a man whose eyes were gouged out by a Nadder. "None of your sauce."

"Aye, Chief." Hoffer leans back, already taking out his small knife and a block of wood. The soft scratch of wood carving echoes the pop of wood. "So what is odd?"

"That the daughter of a woodcarver and a cheesemaker must be held back from dragon training till she is at least twice as tall than her hatchet. And that my only daughter, come from a long line of chiefs and warriors--on both sides--is meek as a lamb."

"Stoick!" Hoffer turns, as if to look at him. Stoick will never get used to how quickly Hoffer snaps his head up to meet the gaze of a man he can no longer see. "Women's ears are sharp as spears, and their memories longer."

"The ale room is down the hall."

Hoffer's brow furrows. His sightless eyes are dreadful to look at when this happens. "How dare you be so ungrateful?" He clasps his knife so his knuckles, soft from retirement but no less deft, whiten on the knife. "Your own wounded men say Hiccup has the hands of Eir--that if a bird lost its wing, it would fly again at her touch."

"Ungrateful! No!" Stoick wonders if he should say it louder or softer, in case Hiccup is listening. He gives up after his head swims. "No--never me, Hof."

The blind man stares without staring, and finally lowers his head. The fire wilts further as he continues to whittle. "Well. What ails you, then?"

Stoick closes his eyes. After Valka was carried off by that great dragon, it had taken a very long time for Stoick to stop wishing that Valka would miraculously reappear, alive and well, so they could have a son. From there, he had to stop wishing his only daughter was a boy. And then, that Hiccup would grow to become one of the rare maids who had the will to become a warrior and chief anyway.

Even Hoffer could see that Hiccup was not a rare maid. She could make good strong shirts better than those from women twice her age, help man or animal to heal from grievious wounds. She could speak plainly to another woman, and order an injured warrior to stay still, but with whole lads and men she was not half as bold.

"I am proud of my daughter," Stoick finally says--and in case Hiccup is listening, he says this clearly. "I know what people say of Hiccup. Even Gytha says she has not seen anyone so skilled save herself. But Hof..." And Stoick's throat tenses. "I have no _son._ "

"Are you asking me how you could mend that?"

"By Thor, no! Everyone's given me counsel on that." He counts them off on his fingers. "I could remarry--before my hair turns grey, of course, otherwise what's the point? Hiccup could marry, but what--"

Hoffer's ears prick up and he turns his head to the door.

Stoick sighs. "Just tell me if she's there, Hof."

"She's not." They both frown. "She's been a long time. Perhaps Hiccup is giving me a drink for the road, Stoick?"

"One moment." Stoick hauls himself up without wobbling--much--and looks into the ale room to find it empty, though Stoick's cup is missing. "Hiccup?"

The clank of armor somewhat alarms him.

"Hiccup? Is there something--" He turns into the cloakroom to find his armor laid out on the floor and Hiccup crouching, poking at it thoughtfully with Stoick's drink in her hand. "Now, what are you doing with my armor?"

"Just looking at--" Hiccup turns to the cup in her hand. "Ahhh! I was only going to spend a second in here! I'm sorry, Dad!" She jumps up and the ale spills. "Sorry... Again. I'll go and--"

"No, I've had enough tonight. Just give Astrid's father his drink."

Hiccup flicks the ale off her hands, mumbling. "Oh... Hothr, man of Odin... Hothr, Wolfskin... Hothr Geirvaldr, I give you my deepest apologies for completely forgetting about you. That was not a good example of hostess-ship. Hostessing? Hosting. ...Hospitality."

"Lass, the man had his eyes gouged out by a Nadder and does not begrudge the dragon for it. He shouldn't be too mad at you." Stoick hoists his armor up and several of the scales fall, glittering, onto the floor. "Also, remind me to get Gobber to fix this when he's got the time."

Hiccup nods and tucks the pieces into her apron. "Meaning never."

"Aye."

"Och, Stoick!" Hiccup says, shaping her hand into a hook and brandishing it at him. "Fix this, Gobber! Fix that! When we're both dead, you'll ask me to fix your weapons in Valhalla!"

Stoick laughs, but as Hiccup leaves the room a wave of guilt sweeps over him. She must have done her share of listening in before this, because Gobber shies from joking about death when there's a woman in the room. Yet, Odin saw it fit to spare her from listening in this time.

\- - -

"Is aught wrong, Stoick?" Hoffer asks, upon Stoick's return to the hall. The piece of wood has taken a rough pointed shape, but his hands cradle it too closely for Stoick to see what it is.

"Oh, Hiccup got distracted by something. Nothing to worry--"

The door opens and Hiccup comes in, with a fancy drinking horn filled to the brim. Her hair and clothes have been tidied up a bit and her stained apron is no longer around her waist. "Hothr Geirvaldr, my hospitality has been sorely lacking tonight. I hope you appreciate this drink as apology. It's meddyglyn from Wales, aged for three years in an oaken casket before Chief Oswald the All-Brother gave it to us."

"A healing mead from the healer?"

"Um, I haven't heard that Chief Oswald is a healer."

Hoffer waits.

Even before the man speaks again, Hiccup's face turns red.

"I meant you, dear."

"Of course. There was only one person you could have been talking about in this whole room..."

Hoffer puts down his knife and block, then reaches out in Hiccup's general direction. "I am honored to receive a drink from the daughter of Stoick, and my own daughter's friend. You will receive no blame from me." His hand is off by about half a foot. But Hothr Geirvaldr only plays a clumsy blind man when he wishes it. "Would you aid me, Hiccup?"

Hiccup takes his wrist as if it was a dragon's maw, and guides it to the drinking horn.

Hoffer tilts the horn, gives one polite swallow, and nudges the drink back with both hands. "Why, Odin would find this mead a worthy foe. And I am out of practice." He coughs, picking up his knife. "Stoick?"

"Oh, no. Not at this hour." Stoick waves Hiccup off. "Just put it in a cup somewhere. I'm sure someone will drink it tomorrow."

"Okay. I might as well... stock the woodpile or..." Hiccup looks down, and gladly finds the pile of wood shavings at Hoffer's feet. "I can sweep that up for you, Hothr."

"Not yet, but thank you." He pats her on the wrist with his free hand. Hiccup does not notice how easy the motion is. "I will send Astrid to you with firewood."

"You're too kind, Hothr Geirvaldr." She bustles out of the hall, wringing her hands and muttering to herself. "Yes, Hiccup, go for the linguistic ambiguity... He was clearly talking about the person that you only mentioned for one second... who isn't even here..."

The door closes. Hoffer tests the point of his knife, and begins carving lines into his piece. "Hiccup has a sharp wit. If she wasn't so flustered, she would have surprised me with a joke."

"Aye. She surprised me remembering about that mead, at least."

Hoffer leans back with a sigh, brushing splinters off his shirt. "We might as well go on. What about your lack of a son worries you?"

"I've no heart for marrying again. Hiccup could marry, but she has no suitor in mind. I could avoid anyone needing to marry... if I named Snotlout as my successor."

"Aha," Hoffer says. "Who could possibly have told you the last one, I wonder?"

"Worse: Hiccup could marry... and I could name Snotlout as my successor."

"What?" And Hoffer's knife slips. "Did Spitelout say that?"

"No, but I dread the day Spitelout gets it in his head. He's not daft. There's no claim to chiefhood from the Jorgensens once Hiccup marries. Yet, as my sister's son, Snotlout is far enough removed to be the man she marries. Even if it's too close for comfort." The ale has finally loosed his tongue enough for the real worry to come out. "Or he could just kill Hiccup, and then where would I be? A far stretch is better than civil war."

"All right." Hoffer sets his carving down and plucks the tankard from Stoick's hand. "You're very drunk if you think that lad would kill a girl and a cousin in cold blood."

"I haven't drunk any of that. Hiccup spilled it."

"Of course. And that wasn't sauce, by the way." Hoffer puts the tankard aside and the sound of carving changes to scraping away splinters. "You worry too much, man. Snotlout's rough, but dishonorable? He'd balk at marrying his cousin, at least because Sefa would. And though Snotlout and Hiccup are hardly close, he's not nearly cruel enough to kill a woman, and kin at that."

"I don't know why I thought of it in the first place--or when it started. But it nags at me sometimes." Stoick rubs his eyes. "Hiccup is not quite her mother's daughter, but how can I blame her for that? She no longer has one. I fear that I should have remarried long ago, if only to have another woman in the house."

"At last, the 'should haves' arrive to wage war with the 'what ifs.'" Hoffer sighs. "You have a great deal on your mind, and save listening, there is naught I can say or do to help it, Stoick. But I will pray to Odin for you. He and I keep secrets well."

Several thuds announce Hiccup kicking the door, and she finally staggers in with a bit too much to carry. She dumps it by the fire and puts her hands on her knees, heaving.

"We were almost--out of firewood--so I took it all in instead of making two trips." She looks up at Hoffer. "And the reason I say that is because you told me Astrid would come over with more. Did you know, or were you just being polite?"

"Aye, I knew that."

"Really?" Hiccup looks at Hoffer's eyes, and then down at her feet. "Um... How did you know? Because--I'm just curious, you know--the woodpile is so far away... and you wouldn't have passed it from the front..."

"I am a carver, and a man of Odin," Hoffer declares, putting a hand to his chest. "He whispers secrets to me. And one of them is how much wood is in a house at any given moment."

"Oh." Hiccup rolls her eyes. "Of course, sir."

"Don't you believe me? Here's another: I am the only one to have seen a Night Fury."

Hiccup scoffs, but then looks up. "Really?"

"Ah, you don't believe me." Hoffer shrugs and turns to his carving, brushing it off with the edge of a sleeve. "Why bother telling stories to one who calls them untrue?"

"What... does a Night Fury look like? Is it--"

"Hothr Geirvaldr!" Stoick chides him, laughing. "You did not know how much wood we had, nor did you see a Night Fury. Stop teasing Hiccup, would you?"

"At your word, I must obey." Hoffer stands, and blows on his carving. "I apologize with a gift to my host and Chief. This is the best I could do on short notice." He presses it into Hiccup's hand, as she hides her crestfallenness. "A wing is unfinished, so I'm afraid it cannot fly." His point flies home to Stoick immediately, though.

"Oh, but--this is a beautiful raven." Hiccup turns it over. "I can let you finish this."

"No, keep it." Hoffer coughs and shakes his legs out. "It's past time for me to go home to my wife and daughter. I shan't remember how I did this in the morning."

"But there's no one else who can--"

"It is a fine gift, finished or not." Stoick puts a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Help Hoffer's cloak on, would you?" Hiccup ducks into the cloakroom and ties the linen cloak around Hoffer's shoulders, then opens the door for him.

In the middle of the night, an anguished cry awakens Stoick.

"Hiccup!" Stoick rushes to his daughter's room and finds Hiccup clutching her hair, but for all the distress she seems to be in no harm. It could have been a nightmare. "What's wrong?"

"He couldn't have seen a Night Fury because he's _blind!_ " She buries her face in her hands. "He must have laughed at me the whole way home!"

"No, no, lass." Stoick pats her on the shoulder. "He would have only laughed for a moment."

**Author's Note:**

> -This was written a while ago and since the last movie has struck me with Feels(TM), I'm brushing up and finishing out this gender-switch AU because it really is so much fun!  
> \- Læknishǫnd means "healing hands" in Old Norse.  
> -Eir is a healer goddess.  
> -Even though Viking culture was already fairly flexible with gender roles and Berk is even more gender-equal, I feel that Hiccup would be firmly at ease with traditional women's work. Stoick's desire for Hiccup to be different is therefore more of a personal issue, like "My daughter is great at these things, but do they have to be so... ordinary?" In essence, the opposite of male!Hiccup's problem. Hiccup is still aware of what Stoick thinks, but because her own skill would be more visible, their relationship would be better, if still slightly strained by the following note.  
> -The political issue of having an only daughter and not remarrying, compounded by worry for Hiccup's well-being and the aforementioned flexible gender roles on Berk, means Stoick would still press leadership on Hiccup. However, Stoick being comfortable with tradition would probably do his best to work to Hiccup's strengths, meaning her intelligence and crafting/healing skills.  
> -Gytha is the feminine version of Gothi, which is the title of a priest.  
> -Gobber mentions seeing a man whose eyes were gouged out by a Deadly Nadder. I took the reference and ran like the wind with it.  
> -Hoffer's original name was Hafur Hafurson, "hafr" meaning "goat." He was a berserkr and renamed himself Hothr Geirvaldr to show an allegiance to Odin. Because this is akin to a title, friends rarely use his full name and Astrid's last name is still Hofferson (or Hafursdottir). Hoffer was blinded and retired when Astrid was nine. In addition to being a woodcarver, he is Berk's skald, a poet and political advisor, rather than the best friend Gobber is.  
> -The names Hiccup lists in her rehearsal apology are titles of berserkers.  
> -Sefa means "calm, composed." I thought it fit with Stoick's naming.  
> -Oswald the All-Brother is a slightly more Nordic version of his canon nickname, and a play on Odin's epithet "All-Father."


End file.
